


Touch has a Memory

by mearchuimhne



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Adorable Newt Scamander, Fantastic Beasts Kink Meme, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Newt Scamander Gives All the Hugs, Original Percival Graves Needs a Hug, Original Percival Graves is Bad at Feelings, Original Percival Graves is a snarky New Yorker, Pre-Slash, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:58:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8976892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mearchuimhne/pseuds/mearchuimhne
Summary: Percival Graves grew up with expectations, and lives with these expectations. They do not include physical contact.
Filled for the kink meme prompt: http://fantasticbeasts-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/459.html?thread=338635#cmt338635





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from a John Keats poem (I am the _worst_ at coming up with titles).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percival Graves knows, from his earliest memories, that being great means being apart.

_From his earliest memories, Percival Graves knows that he has been born into one of twelve magical families in the United States of America who can trace their lineage back to the founding of MACUSA. He knows first and foremost that he has a duty to his family- American wizarding society has Expectations of these grand old families and these Expectations are to be given due consideration every time he makes a decision, a movement, attends a party, so much as buys a newspaper._

_He knows that he is expected to make something of himself so he can stand proudly with his ancestors when the time comes._

_And so, as soon as he can walk, his life is dedicated to upholding the dignity and honor attached to the family name. That means impeccable control of his magic- dueling, successfully casting spells with nonverbal commands and a proficiency in wandless magic to put most other wizards and witches to shame._

_His standing in the Graves family also hinges upon conducting himself with the same complete control, just as everyone else in the family does- they have politics and culture to influence. Even a hint of misbehavior will bring their reputation crashing down. A family raised to exercise such complete control of their every movement and facial twitch does not easily lend itself to offering affection, physical or otherwise._

_Percival Graves knows, from his earliest memories, that being great means being apart._

\------

Percival Graves lived alone in his apartment on the upper west side of New York City, as far away from his job at MACUSA as he could be without being completely in the sticks of Manhattan that never quite made it onto any of the maps carried around by tourists (or worse, one of the boroughs).

He lived near the no-maj university called Columbia. During his search for an apartment, he found that there was more breathing room up by Columbia. The population of the Morningside Heights neighborhood was comprised mostly of students and professors, and not much other business happened. That meant that Morningside Heights tended to be quieter during the weeknights, which Graves appreciated after 14 hour days of lead-chasing or stakeouts in the dead of winter.

More importantly, there were very few other witches or wizards who called the area home.

Morningside Heights was out of the way of pretty much all public transportation, and most of the magical community didn’t want to look over their shoulder every time they spelled a shoelace that had come untied or summoned a hat blown off a head because one never knew when a no-maj student was studying in the middle of the night.

Out of the few members of the magical community who did live in the area, Graves was unaware of any of them being employed at any of the departments at MACUSA. That suited him just fine. It wasn’t so much that Graves didn’t want to have a social life- it just had to be the correct social life. He knew whom the right witches and wizards to be seen with when in public were, and they were not his subordinates.

Besides knowing the correct contacts in society, Graves had always been able to count the people he called ‘friend’ on both hands with several fingers to spare. Now that he was the youngest man ever appointed to be the Director of Magical Security for MACUSA, trusting co-workers or even employees at other departments with personal information would be the height of foolishness. 

Graves did not suffer foolishness.

The way attitudes were changing and social niceties were going in this day and age, one of Graves’s subordinates seeing him in an out-of-work context might have them thinking they were allowed to take liberties in mixing with him the next time they were back in the office, or on a case. A casual attitude towards authority in the wrong situation could get any one of them killed and Graves was not about to let that happen.

Plus, keeping himself above his subordinates allowed Graves to keep his yearly assessments of the Aurors in his department objective and kept them sufficiently respectful. They never knew how to interpret a nod, a steepling of his fingers across a desk, or the look in his eyes at any given moment; and that was exactly how Graves wanted it.

That was exactly how the Graves family expected it.

\------

_When he is 4 Percival is taught that his mother is to be addressed as “ma’am” and his father and older brother are to be addressed as “sir” in public. He, in turn, is to be addressed as “sir” by his younger brothers and sisters. Each child is allowed to make the mistake of forgetting the correct address in public exactly once- they do not dare make that mistake again._

_He and his siblings do not play outside of the house. They do not have pets, though they are allowed to train horses and hawks and they are expected to care for the house messenger owls when in the country. Their friends are carefully chosen from the correct families to solidify their positions in wizarding society. When they meet they are allowed to socialize under the watchful gaze of their nurses and chaperones until they are old enough for Illvermorny, at which point they will have dorm mothers and fathers who will keep them in line._

_Once in school they are expected to excel in all subjects, and they are expected to choose the correct subjects once they reach their upper years._

_They are not to associate with the wrong sort of person._

\------

His position as the Director of Magical Security and President Picquery’s right-hand man at MACUSA aside, Percival Graves’s ingrained tendency towards aloofness from his co-workers was the major factor in choosing him for impersonation, according to the man who'd spent nearly a full year doing just that. The fact that he guarded his privacy jealously outside of the office made it all the easier to kidnap and stash him away without anybody making a fuss.

A man who had no close friends or lover to come home to was not a man whom people could say was acting out of sorts with confidence; so it said on the transcriptions and reports of Grindelwald’s interrogation.

It sat uncomfortably in his stomach and he kept going back to that part of the report, rereading and rereading it until his eyes blurred over the text but it hardly mattered because he’d memorized it anyway.

Graves knew that Grindelwald was distressingly good at his impersonations. His talent as a Seer was nearly legendary, but apparently, he had a talent for legilimency that allowed him to pull most of what he needed directly from memory. He also carefully studied those targets who were the truly important pieces in his plans.

Graves also knew that the majority of those Aurors he’d considered best at their jobs had been transferred away from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, leaving a staff of green newbies, bullies, and brown-nosers who thought they might get a promotion by following blindly. Graves would never have allowed most of them to work under him in the first place.

It did not take away the sting that nobody found it just a little bit suspicious when his face ordered a summary execution of a civilian and one of MACUSA’s own.

\------

_One day in his third year at Ilvermorny, Percival allows himself to think of a life that doesn’t involve politics and influence and following the path forged for him by his parents and older brother and ancestors. He finds that his skin crawls as soon as he starts thinking about it, like his parents are somehow looking in on his thoughts, but he does it anyway._

_He thinks of taking off into the night and changing his name and becoming a professor at some tiny magic school in the mountains out west. He thinks of becoming a bowtruckle tree-farmer and supplying wood for wands. He thinks of marrying someone who has no connections to any form of politics or society and having children who don’t know or care about social standing._

_He allows himself to think of reaching out and grabbing the hand of his classmate Nadia as they bend over a potions kettle in the back of the classroom and holding it tightly and asking her to the final dance before graduation._

_But he never does it._

\------

Graves didn’t remember much about his escape from captivity, and he remembered even less about his actual time in captivity except for the pain. His whole body remembered the pain. His muscles jumped and tightened and squeezed whenever someone spoke too loudly in the hall, or something fell, or a door slammed, and Graves couldn’t keep them in check. It was frustrating.

It was appalling. Graves never told anyone of it.

He did know the facts of his discovery, roughly, as told to him through the reports filed by one Newton Artemis Fido Scamander and one Porpentina Goldstein:

1\. Scamander revealed Grindelwald’s impersonation of Percival Graves in the City Hall subway station.

2\. The whole of the Magical Security department flew into a frenzy of interrogation and search.

3\. The search started Percival Graves’s apartment building and actual apartment.

4\. It was determined that Grindelwald had impersonated a neighbor first, staking out his movements and habits and routines. (Tina put forth a supposition that Grindelwald had also been reworking Graves’s security measures to recognize him as friendly, tiny piece by tiny piece.)

5\. Percival Graves was found locked up in the little box at the base of a porcelain and ormolu mantel clock that was one of his few personal possessions. (A niffler’s stubborn insistence on trying to stuff the clock into his pouch raised Newton’s suspicions.)

6\. A bowtruckle opened the actual lock after Newton and Porpentina spent several hours undoing wards and seals left by Grindelwald. (The seals should have been undetectable, but Grindelwald had not counted on Newton’s creatures; nor on Newton’s experiments with the properties of magical creatures and their feathers, fur, venom, etc.)

7\. Almost seven full days after they realized Grindelwald’s impersonation, Percival Graves came out of his prison disoriented, bleeding, and trying to scream despite the fact that he could hardly get more than a strangled sound out.

The facts in the reports gave Graves a timeline and told him he was not the same person who attempted to manipulate a young, abused and scared young wizard who’d been forced to suppress his magic until it should, by all accounts, have killed him.

Graves allowed himself to believe in the facts because at least those facts were objective and his memories could not be- Grindelwald was as good with memory manipulation as anybody Graves had ever met and he knew he couldn’t trust anything he remembered about his time in the clock.

If he thought he remembered struggling against his imprisonment at first, trying to break free until his fingers bled under his nails and talking to himself until he was hoarse to keep sane, he could be wrong. If he actually remembered darkness and silence, and sudden lights that were too bright and voices too loud picking apart his thoughts, and pain blurred with helpless rage... he didn’t want to be right.

\------

_Percival Graves graduates with all the honors his parents expect of him._

_He even has an apprenticeship lined up at MACUSA’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in the office of the Director. He will learn the Department, learn the Law, and learn how to lead it._

_He retreats from the dais with his certificate of graduation in hand and makes no undue show of his satisfaction. His siblings clap politely with the rest of the gathered families and other graduating students. Nobody is very surprised that he is at the top of his class._

_When he reaches them to present his diploma for inspection, his father shakes his hand and nods his approval. His mother allows him to kiss her hand and brushes his hair from his forehead to straighten it with a smile._

_He knows he’s exceeded their expectations._

\------

Graves knew his injuries were intense, and that the hospital care he’d received early in his convalescence had taken round-the-clock shifts so be sure he stayed stable and actually healed.

It took several weeks, but eventually Graves forced Tina to tell him how weak and diminished he’d been when they found him: He’d been given only just enough water and food to keep his body alive so Grindelwald could maintain his polyjuice potion disguise. After they’d captured Grindelwald he hadn’t even had that. Nearly half his mass was gone, and the doctors had worried that muscle atrophy might have permanently damaged him even with magic to help his body heal.

Everything from those early days was blurred, but he knew that at least once he’d woken and had nearly taken out an orderly in an attempt to get out of his prison, completely unaware that he was no longer there. It was only the soft voice talking him down from his disoriented rage that stopped him.

He’d never asked who that voice belonged to; talking about such an episode would only make people remember it.

As soon as Graves was deemed fit enough to stand, he began working with the physical therapists diligently. He refused to allow them to hold his weight, just as he refused to stop working until he was able to cross a room of his own accord. The healers and therapists gave up trying to make him rest after an hour of being brushed off.

Two months after he’d been freed from captivity, the doctors pronounced Graves fit to return home and resume his life.

\------

_Percival Graves is appointed the Director of Magical Security at the age of 30._

_When he tells his family the news, his father actually grasps his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. His mother wipes a proud tear from her eye delicately and she touches the back of his hand to her cheek._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with 100% more Gramander pre-slash hints than chapter one

_Percival comes down with the dragon pox at six years old. He is immediately removed from the nursery and taken to a sick room to mitigate the danger of contagion._

_For weeks the only people Percival sees are doctors, unfamiliar and always bustling around his bed, making him dizzy with their commands to sit up, cough, lie down, stay still, drink this, let me take your temperature._

_And then his mother is there, sitting at his bedside, eyes watery as she smiles. She is holding his hand._

\------

Graves sat at the edge of his hospital bed, waiting for Tina. She’d made him promise not to leave the hospital without her- hospital policies wouldn’t let him Apparate on his own after the intensive care he’d had- and she’d promised to come at noon to pick him up and take care of the paperwork. He’d agreed after she’d threatened to stay on as a nursemaid until he got back on his feet.

Noon had come and gone two hours ago. Graves was finally desperate enough to leave that he was contemplating no-maj transportation. He wasn’t sure he had the right money for it.

“Mr. Graves?”

Graves placed the voice at his hospital room door as that of Newton Scamander before he’d even looked up from his study of the bedclothes. He wondered if Newton and Theseus knew how much they sounded like each other (though Theseus’s voice wasn’t half as tentative as his brother’s). Thanks to idle gossip from his rotation of nurses, Graves knew that Scamander had come by his room several times, but he’d been sleeping; Graves had his pocket watch, his wallet, and a get-well card to prove the visits.

Now Scamander stood with a suitcase clutched tightly in one hand and a satchel over his shoulder. His wand was tucked behind his ear, of all places. He stared at the floor, at the bed, at the tiny window rather than meet Graves’s gaze. Graves had only met Theseus in person once, but really, how on earth could they be related?

“Scamander.”

“You’re awake,” Scamander said.

“Yes,” Graves agreed.

“I mean, obviously you are,” Scamander said, looking somewhere in the vicinity of Graves’s forehead and offering a tiny smile. “It’s just you’ve been asleep every other time. Except the once, but that was... well, anyway, Tina told me that you’re ready to be released. She wanted to come help you get home but they think they’ve got a lead on some of Grindelwald’s followers and she couldn’t- ”

“That’s quite alright,” Graves said, “I fully expect Porpentina to work against his ilk instead of wasting her time here. Do you have my clothes? You can leave them. I’m perfectly able to get home.”

Scamander looked down at his shoulder like he’d forgotten the satchel was there. “Hm? Oh, yes, these are yours. It’s just that I’ve come here to take her place.”

Graves frowned. “What?”

Scamander peeked sideways at Graves from under his hair. “When Tina said she wouldn’t be able to be here, I decided to come instead. You shouldn’t go home alone- not after the kind of-” he waved his arm in Graves’s general direction, “not after your imprisonment.”

“It’s quite unnecessary for you to put yourself out,” Graves pushed himself upright and locked his knees under his weight. “I know how to get home from here.”

“I’m sure,” Scamander said, “But that doesn’t mean you’re ready to make the trip by yourself. Not for such a long way and you know they won’t let you Apparate on your own. It’s against hospital policies.”

Graves found it somewhat galling that Scamander knew exactly what button to push to get him to give in when they’d had barely a handful of written notes passed back and forth through Theseus.

He nodded stiffly, once. “Very well. Let’s get this done with.”

\------

_Percival remembers the last person who hugged him very clearly._

_It is the evening before his tenth birthday and he is ready to leave the nursery. His parents have been setting up a bedroom of his own in their upstate manor for nearly a week._

_He is excited to have space of his own, of course, but he is sad to leave his younger siblings behind. He knows this means new responsibilities and he’s not sure he will be able to live up to them. Just before his party is set to start he explains all this to his nurse. Her name is Hester and she has been his teacher in reading, writing and magic theory, and his companion, for as long as he can remember. She smiles at him when he has finished his explanation and pulls him tightly to her._

_He snuggles into her and wraps his arms tightly around her neck. They don’t move for five minutes._

\------

Scamander put his suitcase down and slung the satchel off his shoulder. Graves opened it with a wave of his hand- just to prove that he still had full command of his magic. The clothes in the satchel whisked out and into the air for inspection. The clothes were all his own.

Graves glanced side-eye at Scamander. “Have you been in my apartment?”

Scamander shrugged. “Yes, um, I had to go in several times with Tina to check for- once we realized he’d been living there- some of my creatures are very sensitive to picking out different magics and they found Grindelwald’s all over. We wanted to be sure anything he’d done was undone and put up new wards so you could be at ease. Do you need help?”

Graves blinked at the non-sequitur. “What?” He cleared his throat. “No, thank you. I’m quite sure I can manage my own clothes.”

Pale eyes still wouldn’t meet his own, but then it had been Graves’s face Grindelwald wore when Scamander suffered through the _Cruciatus_ curse. No matter that it had been an impostor, or that they sort of knew each other through Theseus. Graves couldn’t really blame Scamander for being uneasy.

“Let me know if you do wind up needing help,” Scamander said.

Graves nodded. He went into the bathroom and closed the door so he could change. He dropped the hospital-issue robe into a basket by the toilet. It disappeared as soon as it hit the bottom of the basket- presumably summoned to the laundry. Graves snorted softly at the empty basket. Good riddance.

He started to reach for his shirt and the reflection of it in the bathroom mirror caught his attention. Graves paused and leaned forward, studying himself for the first time since he’d been stuffed in a clock. His face was thinner than he remembered. He’d been on nutritional supplements for a few weeks but his cheeks were still hollow and the coating of stubble was rough when he dragged his hand over them. His eyes were tired.

“Mr. Graves? You’re awfully quiet.”

Graves leaned his weight on to the pedestal sink and bit back a brief, bitter smile. “Sorry,” he said at the bathroom door, “Not used to my own face anymore.”

He made it into his underclothes and shirt without incident. Even so, his arms shook when he was done. He considered using magic on his trousers- and dismissed the idea a second later. He would never be able to use his body normally again if he relied on magic for everything now. Unfortunately, his body had a different idea.

Graves had gotten his feet into the trouser legs when his right knee buckled and he nearly fell into the toilet. Scamander was at his side in a second. His hands fluttered as though to steady Graves, but they never settled.

“I’m fine,” Graves bit out, gritting his teeth. He steadied himself on the sink and glowered darkly at Scamander through the mirror. “Were you _waiting_ for me to fall out there?”

Scamander should have backed off, like anyone else with the remotest bit of sense did when Graves turned that dark look on them.

Instead he pursed his lips- he looked ridiculously like his brother, when he did that- and plucked his wand from behind his ear. He pointed it at Graves’s trousers where they pooled on the floor. The trousers pulled themselves up Graves’s legs and his belt threaded itself through the loop and buckled.

“That was unnecessary,” Graves muttered.

“So is your bloody stubbornness,” Scamander said, crossing his arms over his chest.

\------

_When he is sent to Ilvermorny to behind his advanced schooling, house Wampus chooses him._

_His parents and brother meet the news with approval- his grandfather was also a student in house Wampus and had become an Auror. They fully expect that Percival will now be able to follow in his grandfather’s steps._

_To aid in his social education, he meets only the people his brother introduces him to. From then on he mingles only with the people his brother introduces him to unless he is assigned a partner in a class because nobody can tell him not to complete his assignments. Percival would trust none of his family-made acquaintances farther than he could throw them, and he is quite sure that is the point._

_And then there is Nadia._

\------

“It is not stubbornness to do what is necessary on one’s own,” Graves said..

Scamander met Graves’s gaze and pale green flashed angrily. Worriedly? “It is not necessary for you to do everything alone,” he snapped.

Graves closed his eyes and asked for patience. Scamander was more like his brother than Graves had originally given him credit for, and Graves was too tired to keep arguing. “I’m fine. I just slipped. Okay?” he asked. He reached for his waistcoat but found that it was already in Scamander’s hands. “Scamander..."

“Arms out,” Scamander said.

Graves glared at him, this time to his face, but it had about as much effect as it might have on Picquery, or a wall. Scamander stared back, face carefully neutral; eyes bright and curious, almost as if cataloging... something. Graves had the sudden feeling that he was being sized up like one of Scamander’s highly illegal creatures. He dropped his head and turned, holding his arms out and slightly back in silent defeat.

Scamander stepped up behind him with the waistcoat; Graves felt the warmth of Scamander’s body on his back immediately. It felt good. Better than anything Graves had felt in a long time.

“Are you always a furnace?”

Scamander chuckled softly. Graves felt the creep of his waistcoat against his shirtsleeves as Scamander pulled it towards his shoulders. Graves wondered exactly how close Scamander was standing.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Scamander said. He let the waistcoat settle over Graves’s shoulders and smoothed the fabric. Then he cupped his hands and his thumbs rested on the nape of Graves’s neck, rubbing tiny circles. “My moth-”

Whatever anecdote Scamander had been about to impart, Graves didn't hear it. His whole body jerked in a long, drawn-out flinch, tensing tight as whipcord. Scamander made a noise of surprise, but his hands stayed planted on Graves’s shoulders to offer support or be ready to catch him.

Without any agreement from Graves’s brain, Graves’s entire body slumped back.

\------

_Nadia is in his year, from house Pukwudgie. She is everything that Percival Graves is not allowed to be._

_Nadia laughs whenever something amuses her without shame. She has a cat, and friends from all throughout the school. Her parents send her letters as a form of communication rather than a status report or to tell her to meet with such a person to make such an arrangement._

_She sets him up with an English penpal- called Theseus- just because she has one of her own. They sit next to each other in almost every class. She will reach out to touch his shoulder, tug on his robes, muss his hair._

_Graves never returns her gestures, and eventually they stop._

\-----

Scamander stumbled from the sudden dead-weight against his chest, but to his credit, he adapted easily to change. He pushed them both forward and caught Graves between his chest and the wall, holding Graves upright until he could get his arms wrapped around Graves’s waist.

“Mr. Graves, are you alright?” he asked softly. “You’re shaking. Do we need to sit?”

“No, no need. Fine. I’m fine,” Graves muttered, forehead to the wall, “I’m fine.”

He probably wasn’t fine. He couldn’t get his legs to work. His heart was hammering and his blood raced under his skin and every nerve ending felt like fire. He should probably be demanding to know what spell Scamander had used to make him like this and counter it.

Scamander pulled Graves back from the wall and lowered them to the floor, carefully, gently. “There we go.”

“Did I not just say no need to sit?” Graves grumped.

“Temporary deafness,” Scamander said. He maneuvered Graves so that the older man rested against his chest, tucked under his chin, half sitting on one of Scamander’s long legs. “Breathe, Mr. Graves. We won’t move ‘til you’re ready.”

Ready? He was ready! He had been ready until Scamander touched him! Graves tried to muster the energy to tell Scamander so, but the steady burning of another human against his back sapped any strength away before he could gather it. He settled for frowning vaguely at the hand resting on his hip, leaving a print of warmth on him like a brand.

He couldn’t be sure how long they stayed on the floor like that before it felt like he could move again. He grudgingly allowed that at least Scamander didn’t insist on talking about it. He hadn’t talked much at all, actually. He’d just shifted positions to make them more comfortable and murmured the occasional soothing bit of nonsense as though trying to charm one of his illegal beasts.

“I’m not one of your creatures,” Graves grumbled.

Scamander chuckled. “You didn't mind so much last time. Responded rather well to it, actually.”

Oh. Graves might have figured that was the voice. He cleared his throat. “That did not happen.”

“As you say.” Scamander murmured. He moved one arm, tactfully said nothing about the way Graves’s body tried to follow it and placed two fingers on the pulse point just under Graves’s jaw. “You still need this. I’ve been given the impression that you’re alone quite often.”

“I don’t mix with my subordinates.”

“You don't count Tina a subordinate?”

“She mixes with me,” Graves grumbled, “Or she does now, in spite of my efforts.”

\------

_Percival Graves meets Hester once after his tenth birthday. He is nearly 21 and he has just graduated from Ilvermorny* to polite clapping and a clap on the shoulder for years well spent. She is waiting on the corner of 120th street and Amsterdam Avenue, and he is about to see an apartment he hopes will suit his needs._

_Hester recognizes him immediately, even though he doesn’t recognize her until she calls his name._

_“How are you?” he asks, standing a respectable distance from her and tipping his hat._

_“Quite well, thank you. I hear you’re working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”_

_“Starting next week.”_

_“I’m proud of you,” she says, smiling widely. Perhaps on a whim, she pats his shoulder and he allows the liberty with a nod of thanks. “Work hard, but not too hard. It’s never done anyone any good.”_

_Percival smiles and looks down briefly._

_“And have friends, Percival. You’re your own man, now- you don’t have to be alone all the time.” Hester holds up a hand to forestall his protests. “I know. Just. Be careful.” The light changes and Hester clasps Percival’s shoulder again._

_She crosses the street and is gone._

\------

“Good for her,” Scamander said lightly.

Vaguely, Graves wondered if he was supposed to consider Tina a friend now. Picquery told him during one of her two visits that out of all the Aurors, Tina (with Scamander) was the only one who’d worked at all hours to try and find him. He was grateful for her dedication, and he’d shown it by insisting she be reinstated in her position immediately, with retroactive pay from her time demoted to wand permits and a raise. If she was a friend, he didn’t know what else to do.

Scamander kept his fingers on Graves’s pulse point until long after he should have been satisfied that Graves’s pulse had returned to normal. His fingers began to stroke the patch of skin along Graves’s neck and jaw absently. Graves opened his mouth to tell Scamander to stop it and let him be, but a nail scratched lightly over his jaw and stars burst in his vision. He shut his mouth immediately.

“Also, good job I’m a civilian,” Scamander said after a pause, “You can’t make me go away nor fire me for not doing so. Will you bring my suitcase? I think we’d be more comfortable elsewhere.”

Graves “My paperwork and release forms?”

“Taken care of.”

Graves cocked an eyebrow at Scamander’s elbow and forearm, curled loosely around his waist. At least he could appreciate the efficiency. He curled a finger and the suitcase flew to them. Scamander gripped the handle of the suitcase and Apparated them out of the hospital.

They landed directly on Graves’s bed, propped on the pillows there. Scamander put the suitcase on the floor and returned his hand to Graves’s neck, stroking his long fingers up and down almost absently. It felt like he was trailing fireworks against Graves’s skin. Graves closed his eyes and they lay in silence- Scamander didn’t say if he had anywhere to be and Graves didn’t ask. A sudden thought occurred and Graves frowned.

“Should I wonder why you know my bedroom well enough to have done that?”

“Probably best not to,” Scamander murmured, a soft grin in his voice.

Graves closed his eyes and grunted. “Let me move.”

Scamander’s arms loosened immediately and his hands started fluttering. “Do you need to get up? Or do you need something- I can get you- ”

“No.” Graves grabbed one of the flying hands, which in turn caused Scamander to stop talking. He turned over and smiled briefly to himself upon catching sight of the deep red in Scamander’s cheeks. He allowed himself to sink into the comfort of Scamander’s body and push his face into the curve of Scamander’s neck. “Tell anyone about this and I will have your travel visa revoked just so I can personally recommend you for a job in the permits office and tell your brother it’s for community service.”

“Horror,” said Scamander, flatly. He wrapped his arms around Graves once more, cupping the back of Graves’s head. His fingers combed through Graves’s hair and Graves’s whole body shivered pleasantly. “I’m terrified. Truly.”

Scamander and his brother were absolutely, horrifyingly related to each other, and Graves had a feeling he’d never be rid of them now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Because I am a massive nerd and a jerk who thinks about these things too much, Ilvermorny as Hogwarts-with-new-house-names bothers me for a variety of reasons. I'm treating it as a college here.


End file.
